


The Day I Fell Into Love’s Arms Wearing the Worst Disguise in History

by dakato



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Commoner Hinata Shouyou, Disguise, First Meetings, M/M, Prince Kozume Kenma, Prisoner in Own Home, Trapped, pining from afar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 17:56:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19408414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dakato/pseuds/dakato
Summary: Kenma had only known the inside of his bedroom chambers his whole life. The sight of a boy with vividly orange hair in the city square below made him think that maybe a change of scenery was in order.





	The Day I Fell Into Love’s Arms Wearing the Worst Disguise in History

**Author's Note:**

> So this Haikyuu discord server I'm in is starting to do writing prompts and this is my entry for our first one. So I'm using it to branch out on my pairings. 
> 
> The prompt is: Royalty disguises itself for love.
> 
> Enjoy <3

**The Day I Fell Into Love’s Arms Wearing the Worst Disguise in History**

* * *

Kenma had never felt the grass beneath his feet. He’d never felt the wind blow through his hair. Never been lulled to sleep by the sound of the great river Silverblood on a summer’s afternoon. Anything on the other side of his chamber doors was completely foreign to him. His meals were brought to him. He had a small bathing room off the south wall of his living quarters. The only thing that had kept him sane these seventeen years was the fact he had a window that faced west and overlooked the city market. Otherwise, he was certain he would have died of boredom years ago. 

The outside world was forbidden for the only prince of Gilead. For years Kenma’s parents, the king and queen, had tried to have a child but for some reason couldn’t succeed. If you asked Kenma’s father, he would tell you that the great god Arthros came down from the plateau atop Mount Tanderion and placed a newborn son at the castle doorstep. His mother would argue that it was one of the fae disguised as an old crone who stopped them on their way to a neighbouring country, placing a small bassinet containing a baby boy in his mother’s hands. The true story? No one will tell Kenma. They just worship him and call him a miracle child. This was why he was forever locked in his chamber, tucked away in one of the taller towers, protected from the world and what harm it could bring him. 

For Kenma’s country was almost always at war. They lived in the capital Heliopa, also known as the ‘Silverthrone’, which was nestled in at the base of Mount Tanderion. The mountain was the main source of the world’s most precious metal, ottartaral, which often flowed down the large river aptly named Silverblood. Each country wanted to control it for it made the finest weapons and armor. For some strange and mystical reason, the mountain never seemed to run dry of it either. So lords from across the continent would march to their gates and try and claim the city as their own. None succeeded. But long-standing undefeated streak still didn’t ease the king’s paranoid mind. So Kenma was locked in his room before he could even talk. Doomed to stay there until his father was ready to hand him the kingdom.

Today was Kenma’s seventeenth birthday and while he sat alone at the small round table in his chambers, poking at the dry piece of cake in front of him, he could hear the faint sounds of the party being held in his honor a few stories below him. Giving up on trying to eat the remainder of it, Kenma lazily picked himself up from the chair and crossed over to the chaise in front of his only window. He always loved how the city square looked at the sunset. All the stalls were slowly closing up, people walking home for the night. Just beyond the outer walls of the city Kenma could see the fading sun rays dance across the silvery water of the great river Silverblood. However tonight there was something particular that caught his attention. Something new. 

Since Kenma had been staring out this very window for as long as he could remember, he grew to recognize every citizen by face. He knew their daily patterns. Who they enjoyed interacting with. Who they’d rather see covered in horse dung. But tonight something caught his eye. Something different. Something  _ new _ . It was a boy around Kenma’s age with the most brilliant head of orange hair and a smile that could warm a person to the bones on the coldest winter night. Kenma was entranced. He watched the boy as he bounced between all the stalls, almost as if he was flying. Every person who came into contact with this boy gained a smile just as brilliant as his own. Self consciously, Kenma started pulling on his own hair. Dark roots that turned flaxen by the ends. It wasn’t totally unusual for these parts, but still not common either. It was enough to earn stares from the servants who would bring Kenma’s meals to him. 

He hadn’t even realized that he was staring at the boy until Kenma’s eyes locked with the dazzling gold ones that had just looked in his direction. Kenma froze, unsure of what to do. Yes, he was in a tower. Yes, the boy was far below him. But in that instance, Kenma swore he could have felt a faint exhale brush his face. He wished they were that close. It was hard to tell the boy’s facial features from this distance. The only reason Kenma could see his eyes was because they so wide and expressive they were hard to miss. Then the boy sent one of those addictive smiles Kenma’s way and the prince was lost. By the time the prince had finally come to his senses, the boy with the blazing orange hair was gone. 

That night started a tradition for Kenma and the boy. Every day for the next couple of months, at sunset he would stop in the same spot by the fountain in the middle of the square, look up at Kenma, and give him a smile. Every once in a while the boy would bring a small token, like a flower or polished stone. Every time a token was left, the urge for Kenma to escape became stronger. To be able to take the next token from the boy with his own hands. After a couple of months full of frustration, Kenma finally starting planning his escape from the tower. 

By the end of the third month, Kenma was ready to scale down the tower walls. Considering he had several guards standing outside his chamber doors at all times, the only option was to go out the window and climb down. He couldn’t get his hands on any rope, so Kenma did the next best thing. He hoarded sheets. Kenma also needed a disguise. Not only did his entire wardrobe scream royalty, but also his unique head of hair would give him away in a heartbeat. So he spent his days trying to wear down a tunic he hadn’t worn in years. The only thing he was having trouble finding was something to cover his head. But after day after day of tearing through his room, Kenma couldn’t find a single hat. The closest thing was a thin scarf that wouldn’t exactly hide is hair in broad daylight, but it would make do while he escaped during the night. 

Kenma went over the knots in the sheets for what seemed like the hundredth time that day before securing them to the bedpost closest to the window. He then crossed over and tossed the other end of his makeshift rope out the opening. It was finally dark enough for him to make his move. Yes, he had missed seeing the boy that day, but in the end it was going to be worth it. He’d trade in a month of missed smiles from the boy in exchange for the chance of a lifetime with them. Kenma quickly threw on his tunic and grabbed his scarf before making his way back to the window. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and scoffed. Thankfully it was dark out because it was probably the worst disguise in the history of Gilead. Climbing up onto the ledge, Kenma felt his knees begin to shake at the sight of just how far the ground was. But he was determined. Determined to finally meet this boy while standing on the same ground.  _ Determined to finally learn his name. _

The first half of the climb wasn’t too bad. Kenma was going at a slow and steady pace but his grip was beginning to weaken the longer he took.  _ Three windows then you’ll hit the ground _ . Kenma repeated the words over and over again. He was just getting to the top of the third and final window when it happened. First, his right hand lost its grip. Then the left hand started to slide. By the time Kenma slid down to the next knot in the makeshift rope, the strength in his left hand was completely gone. He let go. He fell. Kenma squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the inevitable contact with the solid ground. But it never came. Instead he felt himself collide with something softer. Something warm. Kenma opened his eyes and he was in the arms of the orange haired boy, mere centimeters from the golden ones he had been dreaming of for the past three months. 

“Did you really think this disguise would work, my prince?” the orange haired boy laughed. Then he gave Kenma the smile that stole his heart those three months ago. It was even more breathtaking up close. Kenma tried to reach for a response. To say anything to the boy. He could feel it caught in his throat. But it wasn’t words. As he opened his mouth to try and string a coherent sentence together, he instead proceeded to throw up his dinner all over the ball of sunshine holding him. 

They both stared at each other for what Kenma would later describe as an eternity. Then the music of the other boy’s laugh rang through the city square. Kenma felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he became embarrassed over what had just happened. 

“Let’s head to my house and get us both something decent to wear.” the boy set Kenma down on the ground finally.  _ Huh, he’s shorter than he looked from the tower, _ Kenma thought as he finally gave the other boy a look over. 

“The name is Shouyou by the way. Now follow me.” Kenma felt Shouyou grab him by the wrist and pulled him in the direction of the living district. It didn’t even cross Kenma’s mind to look back on the castle that had been his prison for the last seventeen years and three months of his life. Not when he had the sun guiding him to a better future full of love and freedom. 


End file.
